Blue Eyes
by Mirloc
Summary: Take a look into the workings of everyones favorite bad guy.


No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes  
  
The small cottage in the woods harbored the most wanted person in the wizardling world. He looked down on the table, and re-read the Daily Profit article again. 'How could they be so painfully stupid?' He wondered to himself. 'Do I have to make banners appear over Diagon Alley?'  
  
He threw the paper into the fire in disgust. "Pettigrew, you worthless excuse for a human, get your sorry ass in here!"  
  
Wormtail opened the door hesitantly, and came in bowing low. "Yes my Lord, what can I do for you?"  
  
"Whatever I ask you to do will no doubt be met with incompetence." He glared at the worthless minion. "Cruiacio!" He allowed the curse to last for a full minute before lifting it. "Find Malfoy, and bring him here."  
  
The man turned to the mirror hanging on the wall. He new him was far more pleasing than his old form. He looked like himself long ago, back when he was known as Tom Riddle.  
  
Lucius Malfoy entered the room with a flourish. "What is your desire Lord?"  
  
"Things far beyond your meager comprehension." Voldemort snapped. "The death eaters have failed me for the last time. Gather everyone here tonight. There are going to be some.changes."  
  
Malfoy swept out leaving Voldemort with his thoughts and memories.  
  
No one knows what it's like To be hated To be fated To telling only lies  
  
"Tom, may I have a word?" Professor Dumbledore asked as the students were filing out of Transfiguration.  
  
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly, 'What could he know?' he thought. "Yes professor." He finished packing his things, and headed to the desk.  
  
"I have been looking over your request for access to the restricted section of the library." Dumbledore said, "I have a few questions."  
  
'Of course you do you old fool.' Tom thought steeling himself for the questions.  
  
"You know that the books there are dangerous?" the older man looked at riddle sagely.  
  
"Yes professor, I was hoping to do a bit of research in the advanced potions." Tom had been working on this excuse for months. He knew the information was in there that he needed.  
  
"Yes, well since last year's er, issue." Dumbledore said hesitantly "The staff have been asked to be especially sure of the motives of the students researching there."  
  
Tom hadn't thought this angle through. "Yes, I see professor." This was not working out well.  
  
"But being as who you are," Dumbledore said smiling "I can grant you three hours access."  
  
Tom's heart leapt. 'Yes! Three hours was more than enough!' "Thank you sir!" He took the slip of parchment from Dumbledore and left.  
  
But my dreams They aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be  
  
I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free  
  
He raced to the Restricted Section of the library, and grabbed the books he needed, inked his quill and began writing like mad. This was it, the rest of the spell he'd been looking for! It was all here laid out so well in drawings, and blood red ink.  
  
Three hours later Tom left the library several stacks of parchments carefully tucked into his bag. He had to gather items, it would be tricky, but he believed everything he needed was here, and that fool Trisc who taught potions would be as easy to fool as Dumbledore was.  
  
Smiling to himself he wandered down to Trisc's office. "Professor Trisc? Are you free for a minute?"  
  
The man always felt like an uncle to all his students, that feeling of part of the family. Tom hated the man, pure and simple, He hated the way he treated the Hufflepuffs, and stuck up Ravenclaws, and those arrogant Griffindors. He should favor his house, the Slytherins.  
  
Professor Trisc looked at Tom. "Mr. Riddle!" he said a smile spreading across his face "What does Slytherins' finest student need this evening?"  
  
'Your head on a stick you pompous ass.' Tom thought "I have a special request to brew a potion, purely for research mind you." He slid the potion across the desk. "It's for a paper in transfiguration."  
  
Professor Trisc looked it over. "It's very complex Tom, but yes, I believe it would be an excellent test of your skills. I'll need to stock a few items, but I am sure the Headmaster will agree."  
  
'Of course he will, he's as big a fool as the rest of you.' Toms' smile was almost genuine. "Thank you Professor, you have been an enormous help."  
  
No one knows what it's like To feel these feelings Like I do And I blame you  
  
He went back to his room; the potion he would really be brewing had mostly the same components, and the ones different he could slip in without that moron Trisc noticing.  
  
His fellow Slytherins ignored him as normal, something he had encouraged over the years, and next year was his last. Finally free of this place to take his role in history.  
  
He fell asleep that night amidst books, scrolls and notes. The next morning at breakfast Trisc called him up to the head table. "It's all been approved Tom, I spoke with the Headmaster last night, and I have his full agreement. We should be able to begin tonight perhaps."  
  
He smiled at Trisc, "Thank you Professor!" 'Yes, thank you for handing me the world you utter git.'  
  
"Oh, and Tom, it looks like you'll have to go back to the orphanage again this summer." Came the voice of the Headmaster from beside Trisc. "I am sorry son."  
  
'I'm not your son you old, pathetic excuse for a wizard.' He looked over at the headmaster. "Thank you sir and I understand."  
  
Even news of this disappointment could not dampen his spirits as he made his way through the day. That night found him beginning the potion that he had researched for four years.  
  
No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through  
  
Three weeks into the potion he caught Trisc looking over his notes. The fake ones he had placed out so that the nosy professor would see what he wanted to rather than what was before his eyes. They had been doctored so well that it would appear to be the correct potion right up until the last ingredient was added.  
  
He needed a drop of blood from one of the professors, preferably one of the more powerful ones, and he knew just how to do it.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, do you have a minute?" Tom asked as the rest of the students filed out of transfiguration.  
  
"Certainly Tom, what can I do for you?" Tom picked up the parchment on his desk, and headed to Dumbeldore's desk.  
  
"Could you look this over please? It seems to be everything is in order, but I would appreciate a glance over." He slid the paper across the desk; he had made a glaring error Dumbledore was bound to spot.  
  
"Ah, Tom. Look here." and he bent over the parchment to show Tom the error.  
  
Tom made to bend down at the same time, his head smacking into Albus Dumbledore's nose. Several drops of bright red blood hit the parchment. "Professor! I am so sorry!" He looked down, and knew he had more than enough on the parchment. He handed Dumbledore a kerchief, and slipped the parchment into his pocket.  
Perfect! His day was perfect! Now to slip this into the potion tonight, all that would take is a well rehearsed detention, and everything would be fine.  
  
But my dreams They aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be  
  
I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free  
  
The detention had been so easy; handing that utter git Longbottom the wrong ingredient had been so easy. He was such a Gryffindor, trying to protect Tom's Prefect status. Tom 'admitted' his mistake to Trisc, and the two had been given detention, it was almost prefect. 'Noble my ass' Tom thought 'One day Longbottom will get his.'  
  
They spent the evening scrubbing, Tom watching the time carefully. At just before midnight, he made a pretense to get more water to scrub, this put him next to his cauldron, carefully, and he fed in the blood he extracted from the parchment so carefully earlier. There was a brief glowing, and then the potion settled down. Tom smiled to himself.  
  
He just needed to allow the potion to settle down, and tomorrow add in the contents from his other vial. It had taken him a while to find the house and kill the bastard who gave him life. He had died, but only after watching his son and whore wife die first.  
  
He had a tooth from his father, carefully crushed into a fine powder. It had taken him so long to find the potion ingredients, and now he was ready. After taking this potion, he'd be eternal. Yes, not even death could touch him.  
  
The following morning found Tom again in the potions room asking Professor Trisc some inane question, and apologizing for the 'mistake' from the other day. No sense in making his remaining time amongst mortals any more unpleasant than it already was.  
  
When my fist clenches, crack it open Before I use it and lose my cool When I smile, tell me some bad news Before I laugh and act like a fool  
  
"My Lord." Lucius Malfoy interrupted his musings. "They are arrived."  
  
"I'll be there on my time table Malfoy!" he spat. "You serve me not the other way around." Cold hatred burned from sapphire blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, my Lord" Voldemort watched him back away. It amazed him still how spineless his followers were, and yet the champions Dumbledore always sent were so gallant. Perhaps he should recruit harder from Gryffindor, at least then his followers would be a member of the vertebrates. Then he remembered Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. 'Fine upstanding example' the thought bitterly 'the Longbottoms were true Gryffindors, as were the Potters, yet they were dead or at least in the case of the Longbottoms as good as dead.  
  
He got to his feet, and headed out the door to meet his followers. His blue eyes caught his own reflection again startling him, he was so young again. Yes, this time Potter would pay, and pay dearly. This body of young Draco Malfoy was perfect.  
  
If I swallow anything evil Put your finger down my throat If I shiver, please give me a blanket Keep me warm, let me wear your coat  
  
The potion tasted like Tom had thought it would, highly unpleasant with a burning sensation spreading all over his body. He shoved his face into a pillow to keep from screaming out loud as liquid fire coursed through his veins. Ten agonizing minutes later he emerged from his bed dripping in sweat, looking like he had just died, and been raised again.  
  
At dinner he ate ravenously, overhearing comments like "must be gorging because he gets no food in that muggle orphanage" from the Slytherins, and worse from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. 'Laugh while you can.' He thought 'I'll be the one with the last laugh; you will all tremble before the mere mention of my name.'  
  
Several days later Tom was stalking out of the Slytherin common room when he was interrupted by Professor Trisc "I'd like a word Tom."  
  
They went to Trisc's office "Tom, I am having some reservations as to your actions over the last few weeks. Professor Dumbledore let me in on a few half-truths you concocted, and quite frankly what I heard disturbs me."  
  
'What could he know?' Tom thought "I'm not sure I understand Professor."  
  
"It seems you have had several 'accidents' in your work, not at all up to scratch, and certainly not up to Prefect status." Trisc said solemnly. "Is there anything you care to explain?"  
  
Tom had to fight the smile that threatened to ruin everything. "No sir, there's not. I mean, I am going back to the orphanage soon, and next year is my last. So I suppose I was just pre-occupied."  
  
Trisc looked forgiving. "I understand son, now just work on those grades and you'll show everyone that being an orphan does not make you less of a person. You need to truly make your mark on the world my boy!"  
  
Tom smiled and nodded. "I will sir, I will."  
  
No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes 


End file.
